Forget Me Not
by silverfae
Summary: Three years after Neku returns to the Realground, an introspective Joshua pays him a brief visit with a pressing request.. And Neku finally learns the Composer's side of the story. Very mild Joshua/Neku, oneshot.


My first TWEWY fanfic, because the game is awesome and I have become recently enamoured of the pairing. Might be slightly OOC, but I like to think that they would mature in time, so.. Read and review! It's been a long time since I've written anything, and it turned out much longer and very different from what I expected when I started. Constructive criticism is especially welcome.

Disclaimer: I don't own TWEWY and all that good stuff. Murr.

* * *

**Forget Me Not**

The lock snicked quietly in the empty room, preceding the silent swing of the door as it opened. With a weary yawn, a redheaded young man stepped in, shut the door, and slung his backpack onto the couch, collapsing next to it without a second thought.

"What a day," he mused aloud, stretching languidly and running his fingers through his hair. It had been long and hectic, unhelpfully compounded by Shiki and Eri, who had insisted on dragging him along on one of their daily shopping trips. Not that he needed any more clothes, especially not of the type and colour the girls were wont to pick out for him-

_"..."_ A breath, the lightest pressure of a presence.

Neku stiffened and glanced around the empty apartment. The usual organised mess greeted his eyes; art supplies, hastily stacked CDs, an eye-searingly bright skateboard, and that incongruous hand-sewn plush of an orange fox, complete with a cheery grin. The laundry he should really be doing. His books, piled up against the wall. All the detritus of a lived-in apartment, caught in the inanimate anticipation of human touch.

No one was there.

Feeling the back of his neck prickle uncomfortably, he levered himself off the couch and flung the door open. The corridor outside was eerily still, though the sounds of the city he loved still filtered through the evening air, individual fragments melding into a chaotic symphony. Slightly reassured, he ran his fingers through his hair again and closed the door. It was probably just the wind.

"Neku, you're a fool," he told the listening air, slumping down on the couch again, one hand groping for the remote control he knew the couch harboured somewhere in its depths. "Eighteen and still dreaming..."

_"...Neku, you're a fool..."_

"Who's there?" he snapped, sitting bolt upright and scanning the room wildly. He was absolutely sure he heard a voice this time - there was no way in hell that was an echo, not with that strange inflection and pregnant pause. Not to mention that his tiny apartment was hardly cavernous enough actually rouse echoes in the first place. "Shiki? Beat? If either of you are trying to pull some prank, it's not funny!"

_"...still dreaming..."_

"Is this some kind of sick joke?" Neku ground out from between clenched teeth, abandoning the couch to prowl carefully around the room. Flicking all the switches he could find, he lit all the lights to the main room, his bedroom, and the bathroom, scouring each space with an intense scrutiny. Before long, he was forced by the complete lack of hiding places to a foregone conclusion.

There was no one there.

After staring at shadows for five minutes, he gave up and flicked almost all the lights back off, leaving the warm yellow glow in the bathroom. "Maybe I just need a shower and some sleep." He rubbed his eyes and matched actions to words, undressing quickly and grabbing a towel along the way.

Under the soothing patter and fall of water, his earlier fears seemed entirely unfounded. It wasn't as if someone was going to spring into his shower and molest him, or start hacking him to bloody bits. He chuckled softly at the thought and closed his eyes, allowing warm water to lull his senses.

_"...heehee..."_

"Shit." Neku nearly snapped his neck as he spun around, glaring daggers at the otherwise deserted bathroom. Or so he had thought, anyway. That infuriating giggle was all too familiar, despite the three years he had passed without encountering its owner. Pushing his wet hair out of his face, he half-growled, half-sighed in resignation. Some things never changed. "J-Joshua? Is that you?"

_"None other, my dear proxy,"_ purred the disembodied voice. The whisper of a breath brushed Neku's ear, making him almost jump out of his skin. He cursed inwardly and shuffled backwards into the stream of water in a futile attempt to cover himself.

Feigning a confidence he didn't feel, Neku decided that the only way to do this was to go straight to the point and hope the Composer wouldn't mindrape him too much. "So, Joshua, did you just come to watch me shower, or did you want something?"

_"Mm.. maybe I just wanted to watch you shower, Nekky,"_ the voice teased lazily, placing arch emphasis on the nickname. Neku barely had the time to register his words before a soft white light unfurled above the sink, coalescing into the Composer's realground form - slightly older to match the redhead's age, but with the same tousled silver hair, slate-grey eyes and knowing smile. His slight form was perched on the edge of the sink, bare feet hovering just inches above the wet floor.

"Hello, Neku. Long time no see," Joshua murmured, his lips curving into a characteristic smirk as he examined his erstwhile partner with evident interest. "My, my, how you've grown!"

"Damn you!" Distinctly disadvantaged, Neku flushed and turned back towards the wall. How dare he just march in here like he owned the place? Couldn't anyone have some modicum of privacy any more?

"At least I bothered to materialise this time," the youth on the sink pointed out in a sickeningly reasonable tone, swinging his legs absently.

"Whaaat?" Neku yelped, his jaw working furiously in outrage and horror as he struggled to comprehend what his ears had just heard. "Y-y-you! You've watched me.. shower.. a-and.. I.. here..!" He felt his ears burn and turned to stare, wide-eyed, at the innocuously-humming Composer. Just how often did he-

With a coy giggle, Joshua fluttered his eyelashes at his wet and now entirely discomforted proxy. "Oh, once or twice. Or maybe more. I didn't keep track, I was always too busy enjoying the show," he added wickedly, one corner of his mouth kicking up with pure amusement.

Neku spluttered incoherently, then began to cough as the still-running water decided that he was needing a drink. The _nerve_ of that bastard! Not a single word from him the three years they'd been apart, yet the first thing he found out was that the creep was positively stalking him! All those times..! His face was positively tingling with heat, though from his coughing spasms or from embarrassment he did not know; the urge to bury himself under a rock clashed headlong into his desire to wrap his fingers around that slim white neck and _squeeze_.

"Oh dear, can't have my dear partner choking to death in his own bathroom, can we?" Joshua tsked to himself and casually flicked a finger. The water stopped, leaving a red-faced, gagging Neku doubled-up beneath the showerhead. Smiling enigmatically to himself, he waited for the young man to recover before slipping off the sink and interjecting with a sweet "So, Neku, are you done showering, or do you.. mm.. need my help with that?"

"I'm done, I'm done!" Neku gasped hastily, snatching up his thankfully long-and-fluffy towel and swathing himself in its folds. He was most emphatically _not_ going to stay in here any longer than was needed, naked and alone with _him_. Shoving past the intruder's slight body, he emerged into his room, intent on setting the record time for drying and dressing.

As he pulled a shirt over his head, he glimpsed the pale Composer leaning against the window, watching the streets below with a rare melancholy. Seated on the edge of his bed and under the guise of towelling his hair dry, Neku studied his expression with a frown. He would have expected the feisty young man to continue teasing him as he dressed, but his silence was just as unnerving. Something was definitely up.

"Something up, Joshua?" Neku asked grudgingly, his red face having subsided once he was dressed. "I'm sure you didn't pay me a house visit just to ogle at my body."

A beat too late, the silverhead raised his head and cocked an eyebrow at the inquiry, the glimmer returning to his distant eyes. "Oh, Neku, there are some things that are too tempting to pass up.. and believe me, you're certainly one of them."

Heat unaccountably rose to his cheeks again as Neku digested his reply, unsure of whether to respond to his words or the almost tender tone of sincerity. He settled for a quick compromise. "Teasing me is, you mean. C'mon. After three years of not speaking to me, this is all I get?"

Joshua stilled and cast one last look at the streets before seating himself on the bed. "All right, then. First things first." A self-deprecating smile crossed his lips, a sight that made Neku do a double-take. Something was really, definitely, and creepily up.

"Wait for me to finish, Neku," Joshua admonished primly, then cleared his throat. "First.. I'm sorry for what I did to you three years back. I don't regret what I did, and it was for the best, but I apologise."

Gaping was the only thing the dumbfounded redhead could think to do. Joshua? Apologising? Things were getting from bad to worse. He shut his mouth with an audible click. "You.. you've changed, Joshua. The one I knew would never have even thought of such a blasphemous thing."

A small smile touched the Composer's lips. "You've changed as well, my dear Neku, and for the better." His gaze lifted to lock with his former partner's, though his eyes remained slightly unfocused, as if reliving a recollection. After a moment, he spoke again. "You were the one who gave me back my hope for Shibuya. You are the shining example of what we wish to achieve with the Reapers' Game - not to destroy, but to mould and refine the beauty of Soul." He pursed his lips thoughtfully, the expression so disparate from his usual smirk. "As for me.. There is very little that will not change when the thing you hold most precious is taken from you for three years. A little.. taste of my own medicine, so to speak."

"Th-three years.." stuttered Neku, once again finding himself unable to cope with the implications. His mind spun wildly, but the cogs seemed loose, his thoughts rattling uselessly along.

Joshua reached over and took his stunned proxy's hand, clasping it within his own and gently brushing his fingers over its back. "Yes. If that had been a Game, Neku, you would have been my entry fee."

"But.. why?" Neku blurted out, too taken aback to protest or even notice the contact. This was not how he'd envisioned their reunion at all, even if he had expected one in the first place. The hatred he would have once felt at fifteen seemed a paltry grudge in hindsight, especially given what the Game had done for his life; it had turned it on its axis, expanded his horizons, given him everything he now held dear. He had long since forgiven Joshua in his mind for what had seemed an unconsciable act back then, even.. forgotten him, just a little bit.

Brushing a stray strand of hair behind his ear, the silver-haired young man chewed consideringly on his lower lip. "It was my punishment, I suppose you could say," he offered after a time. "Every gift has its price, and the price for returning you and your friends intact to the realground called for a sacrifice of my own."

"It doesn't seem much of a punishment," Neku pointed out musingly. After all, he was here now, wasn't he? His mind refused to grapple with the concept that he was so precious to the kid he had once loathed so much. How in the world did that happen? And how about himself?

With a dark laugh that sent chills up Neku's spine, Joshua responded, his voice so low that the former had to lean forward to catch his words. "That's not all, of course. The Angels decreed that, as a _reward_ for loyal service and hard work, I would be _invited_ to ascend precisely three years and a day from that day onward. Clever bastards, aren't they, Neku?" A sharp glitter hardened his gaze as he glanced out the window, his hands slackening in turn.

Without thinking, Neku squeezed one of the pale, pale hands in a futile attempt to comfort. "Who's going to be Composer?"

"Shibuya will choose," was the distant answer; all of a sudden, Joshua seemed to come back to himself. A faint giggle escaped him as he clasped Neku's hands and shifted closer, mischief once again lighting his eyes. "Look at us," he cooed softly, tucking his face into the crook of the hapless redhead's neck and nuzzling before he could pull away. "A right pair of lovebirds, don't you think?"

Neku blushed bright red, batting the silvered head away but making no move to scoot further over the bed. A niggling question still plagued him, so he plunged unheedingly into the breach. "So how did I end up your.. most precious..? I was a such a snot back then, not that you were any better."

Humming in his throat, Joshua leaned his head back against Neku's shoulder. "I suppose it was because you were my first real friend, as sad as that sounds. The role of Composer can be a very.. lonely.. vocation. No one involved in the Reaper's Game ever gets to see you as you are, even the Producer. To them, you are your position, never a person in your own right. It gets tiring after a while." He stretched, then turned to face Neku. "But I didn't come to wallow in self-pity, so that's that."

"What did you come for?" Neku asked bluntly. Contrary to his tone, one arm crept around the slender form of his ex-partner, tentatively offering comfort.

"It's a rather absurd request."

"Spit it out, Joshua."

"Ooh, I'd rather thought you would prefer me to swallow," he teased automatically, but the customary giggle was absent.

Neku remained expectantly silent, not bothering to react to that jibe. Something, or many somethings, if his memories were right, told him that the flippant Composer was hurting, and badly - and he intended to find out why.

"Oh, fine, if I must," Joshua pouted, then sobered up almost instantly, tilting his head back to contemplate the ceiling. "Neku.. there is truly nothing more lonely than being an Angel. To see you as and when I like will be nothing to me, but there will never be a chance that you will ever see me. Watching from such a high frequency.. there are advantages, of course, but not being able to reach out and touch someone.." His voice shook for a moment. "Even as Composer, individuals can see me. I dictate the dance of Shibuya, content that there are _people_ on the other side, living, breathing, feeling the Music. The higher planes have none of that." A blank, unfocused stare. "Perfect communion, elevated lives.. None of the conflict that defines Shibuya. None of the life."

His voice a low whisper, Joshua continued, "And I will simply exist.. One of the Angels. Never Joshua.. Nor Yoshiya Kiryuu.. the same fate I've borne since I rose to Composer, only now.. Only now, as time passes and I exist in eternity.. I will be forgotten.. And it will be as if I have never existed." He raised a bitter gaze to the window once again, sliding a sidelong glance to his motionless companion. A chuckle forced itself past pale lips. "Perhaps it's just my insufferable ego."

"No," Neku said slowly, turning to grasp both of Joshua's shoulders with his hands, his fingers digging deep as if to reinforce his denial. Grey eyes lifted to meet blue, one slim eyebrow raised ever so slightly.

"No?" Joshua echoed, a mocking smile making the word ring hollow. "Humans forget, Neku. Memories fade."

With a suddenness that shocked even himself, Neku pulled back and slapped Joshua across the face in one smooth, vicious movement. Anger boiled to the surface without warning, overwhelming the surge of intense pity the redhead did not want to feel. "I can't believe you, Joshua," he bit out coldly, contempt lacing his words with an icy malice as he stood and began to pace the room. _"I can't believe you."_

Silently, the still-seated young man touched his cheek delicately with his fingers, as if he could not believe it either.

"Think about it for a moment," Neku raged. "Think about the sheer number of people who have _died_-" his finger stabbed the air, "and left nothing behind. No legacy, no progeny, gone with barely a ripple in the human gene pool. Think of the Players, the Reapers, who are nothing but motes of Soul because they tried to rise to what you are now, and failed." He stopped pacing and swept damp spikes of hair out of his face. "And here you are.." he concluded softly, regarding Joshua with hooded eyes. "Composer and creator of Shibuya, shaper of Soul, weaver of Music, whining because your magnificent legacy is somehow going to forget _you_."

Joshua sat unblinkingly for a few moments before bursting out into laughter.

Neku gnashed his teeth and swore in frustration. "What the hell is wrong with you?"

"Oh, that's rich," the other youth gasped, tears coming to his eyes as he clutched his middle helplessly and rocked with laughter. "Me being oh-so-eloquently told off by my proxy.." He dissolved into soundless spasms.

"Rrrgh!" Neku growled, feeling like a fool as Joshua shook with mirth. This was what he got for that embarrassing speech? Talk about ungrateful! With a baleful glare at the silver-headed, shuddering figure on his bed, he stalked out of the room and set himself down on the couch in the dark, not trusting himself to stay and not smack the bastard silly. He probably should have, anyway, Neku reflected briefly through a lull in his thoughts, before his anger, frustration, and sheer confusion cast his mind back into seething turmoil.

He was leaving for the Higher Planes, was he? From what Neku knew, it _was_ the ultimate reward, but Joshua's view of it was achingly paradoxical. A flash of understanding abruptly shot through the redhead as he mulled over the matter. Perhaps that was why he cultivated that holier-than-thou facade, and why it had broken down now; to keep everyone away and forsake attachment so that he would not end up in this state was just as hard on him as it was on his.. victims. As his first proxy, Neku was the only one to have broken through, to have made it clear what he would ironically lose to Time as an entity who was above Time.

In a way, the Composer had forgotten what it was like to be mortal.

A movement out of the corner of his eye snagged his attention. Joshua stood framed in the doorway, limned in the room's light at his back. For a moment, he seemed to shine with an otherworldly glow, but one step forward cast him back into shadow.

"Neku.." he whispered, his face inscrutable in the darkness. "Neku, I find that I must most blasphemously apologise once more."

A smile was back in his voice, but it fell pitifully short of his usual smirk. Unsure of how to handle the introspective Joshua, but finding himself smiling at the backhanded jab nonetheless, Neku kept his peace, watching his ex-partner pick his way carefully across the unlit room to him.

"You're right, you know," Joshua said in a conversational tone as he neared, then slowed to a halt. "My dear proxy is quite right. And though I'm being awfully selfish about this, I still want to ask that favour regardless."

"Go ahead," Neku proffered softly, and waited.

He didn't resist as Joshua gently reached out to tip his chin up, nor did he flinch when the Composer leaned forward to press his lips to his. Fleeting impressions of heartwrenching regret, ineffable sorrow, and a warm, warm gratitude feathered Neku's consciousness, entrusting to his care an unvoiced cry of anguish, twined inseparably with a final, ungrudging acceptance.

_"Don't forget me, Neku."_

Full night had fallen by the time Neku opened his eyes. Joshua was gone, but in his place, a pure white feather lay luminous against the darkened floor. Touched to a quiet grief, the redheaded young man bent to cradle the feather in his hands, then spoke to the now-empty air.

"I won't."


End file.
